A strange light glowed in the Lady of the Lake’s eyes. Was this what hope looked like on such an inhumanly beautiful face? Ari didn’t wait to know more. She lifted her foot, stepped into the portal and was instantly lost in the space between time.
The day of Arthur’s birthday celebration was finally upon them, but instead of lining up neatly, everything was flying out of Merlin’s control. They weren’t poised to steal the chalice and get the hell out of Dodge. They were standing in a rough circle in the tower, watching Jordan die.
Well, most of them were.
Val was still in Nin’s cave—and Ari was flat-out missing. Arthur had returned from Avalon alone, announcing a new peace with the enchantresses but also keeping mum on exactly what had befallen Sir Lancelot.
Gwen and Lam were arrayed in their finest for the party, which made Jordan’s stark white skin and bloodstained clothes look even worse. Merlin sat beside her on the cot they’d smuggled up to the tower, using a few sparks to help her breathe. It was paltry magic, but it made him feel better, a bit.
Trumpets blared across the city lit by a purple twilight. Lam looked through an arrow slit to the crowds in the courtyard below. “Avalon is here. Whatever Ari did… it worked.”
Merlin stood, a childish tizzy of emotions taking over his heart and body. He stamped and shouted, “This is wrong! We’re meant to steal the chalice and then leave this godsforsaken place behind, once and for all!” Gwen and Lam stared at him with a pity he couldn’t stomach. As if they could tell that his need to quit Camelot ran much deeper than he liked to admit. “This era is vile. It’s killing us.” He looked down at Jordan, immediately wanting to take those words back.
“I have to go down to the party,” Gwen said as she edged toward the stairs, looking physically pained to leave Jordan. “Arthur will want me by his side. He’s been distant since Avalon, but he needs me. Whatever happened to Ari seemed to… scare him.”
“We’re all scared,” Lam said quietly. “She should be here by now.”
Gwen, Lam, and Merlin shared a moment of fear so large it seemed to fill the tower. Then a crackle of light exploded at the center of the room. The fabric of reality tore, exposing a dark wound, and Ari stumbled through it with all the grace of a drunk antelope.
Lam rushed forward to envelop Ari in a hug that also kept her from falling over.
“How—” Merlin started, but Ari cut him off.
“No time to explain,” Ari said, getting back to her balance. “We have to send Jordan to our future. Now.”
“It’s not a bad idea, in theory.” Merlin had considered it: the medicine of the future would be able to heal Jordan where Merlin’s magic and medieval poultices simply weren’t enough. He’d been able to put a basic patch on her wound, but it hadn’t stopped the complications of infection. “The portal magics…” he said, faltering on the logistics of sending her back. “We’re still down one.”
“The enchantresses just got here,” Lam said. With a quickly mustered smile, they added, “Should I go charm one into helping us?”
“No need. Here.” Ari pushed a dagger into Merlin’s hand so fast he leaped back, and it hit the floor with a clang. He looked down to find a familiar blade. It was identical to the one Morgana had wielded—and stuck him in the leg with. “That’s all fired up with Avalon magic. A gift from Nin.”
“Nin?” Merlin cried.
“We can talk about that later. Right now it’s portal time. Merlin, are you ready?”
“But we have to wait for the chalice. Arthur should have it in a matter of hours.”
Ari eyed the windows, the last of the sunset turning Camelot into a rich tapestry of shadows. “You have to trust me. We’re out of time. I’m not letting her die like Kay. Send her back now!”
“Well, she isn’t part of the Arthurian legend, so sending her back won’t ruin the story. That’s the good news.” The bad news is that it would use up the three magics they needed to get everyone else home. How long would it take them to collect them again? Months? Years? Would Merlin even be able to do it then or would he be too busy wetting his diapers?
“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, thinking of the staunch knight down in the oubliette, who kept his secret because she understood what it meant to do anything to protect your friends. Your people.
And Merlin’s people included Jordan.
He hit a bass note, a sort of meditative chant that he’d learned from some monks in one of the long-past Arthurian cycles. The shards of Excalibur floated gently in the air, forming a circle around Jordan. The dagger glowed in the center, a bright swirling gray like the mists around Avalon.
“Why is the mage burping?” the black knight asked, eyes still closed, voice a whisper.
“It’s singing,” he grumbled.
“You’re leaving,” Gwen said softly to Jordan.
“Not dying,” Merlin piped in, for clarity. “Back to the future for you.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” Jordan asked as she muscled her eyes open.
Gwen kneeled at Jordan’s side, fighting the swell of her dress and the baby hidden inside of it. “You need to get immediate medical attention. We’ll… we’ll be right behind you.” The sunset shone on the tears trailing down her cheek.
“My parents will help you. Tell them we’re on our way,” Ari said. “We’re coming back to the night we left. Tell them not to be surprised if we’re a bit older.”
“No.” Jordan struggled, trying to sit up. “You could be stuck here for years. Decades.” She glared at Merlin specifically. “Why are you doing this? It will cost you.”
“Because we’re family.” Merlin glanced around. “And we need your help in
